contagiously bright
by concreteskies
Summary: An AU for 1x05 "The Iron Ceiling" in which Steve Rogers was trapped in the military complex.


**contagiously bright**

* * *

_In the darkest of nights, __  
__The city of lights __  
__Will pour unto us. __  
__Creeping inside __  
__Through our sleepy eyes, __  
__Contagiously bright _

_-**Sleeping at last**_

* * *

"He'd say, do as Peggy says" she is yelling now, feels the force of her voice drumming against the dome of her mouth and the way it pulsates through the air.

Why does he have to bring Steve into this?

"She's right" she hears from somewhere behind her and only a small part of her is able to fathom the voice. The rest just goes completely still.

There is still fire and smoke, collapsing walls and ashes that seem to climb underneath her skin. But when she finds his face she feels her ribcages collapsing under the weight of her heart.

She's dimly aware of the fact that he is keeping his shield in front of her body, the other arm busy yielding a gun. She is also aware of the fact that she is still shooting and analyzing the scene. But most of all she is aware of the rise of his chest, the soft lines of his jaw, and his eyes that always seek hers.

It takes a couple of minutes of joint effort before finally,

Finally,

There is silence. No more shots fired, no more stonewalls crumbling, just the ghosts of their breaths as they echo through the air.

She turns to him then, lip trembling with her heart in her mouth. Her breath seems to clamber up her throat, only to get stuck somewhere before her lips and for a moment she thinks she might die because her body is physically unable to handle his sight.

"I'm sorry, I'm late" he says and oh god have his eyes always been this blue? Has his breath always been such a goddamn miracle?

A trembling laugh falls through the air and she just stands there and slowly, so very slowly reaches out her fingertips to touch his chest, right above his heart.

Despite the wreckage she can feels it beating, a little too fast, a little unsure and a little uneven.

"How?" she asks and the word burns on her lips because there is so much more she should voice as well.

"After the crash I was caught in ice for months. They found me eventually and broke me free, managed to get my heart and respiratory rate up again and then kept me hostage in one of the cells until they found a purpose for me. One of the explosions from up here broke a part of the wall and so I could get out" he rushes out, barely breathing.

His hand reaches out to the one of hers that is not currently listening to the morse code of his heart.

He hesitates before he takes hers, turns his palm so it is open to the ceiling and waits until she places hers in his. He intertwines their fingers and his thumb graces her callused yet still soft skin.

A lone tear cascades down her cheek and rains like fire onto her chapped lips. He doesn't say anything, just pulls her close.

She lets herself fall against his sure frame. Her ear and cheek replace her hand above his heart and his other arm comes around her shoulders to hold her close.

She breaks apart then. She knows her knees are not able to hold her weight anymore but somehow he keeps her up as every ounce of breath forces itself out of her chest, as every scream she has kept buried in the debris of her heart breaks free, demanding to be heard.

He just keeps her close and tells her he is sorry over and over.

When she finally grows still and the commotion settles she leans her head back and glances up at him with eyes that are fluid sorrow and eyelashes that are dotted with tears.

"It's not your fault" she whispers but he shakes his head.

"You still hurt" she nods and his hand moves up along her shoulders and into her hair.

"I'm sorry" he says again.

She manages a weak smile that is blurred with tears, yet still the most honest smile she has been able to fathom in the past months.

* * *

He tells them the full story when they finally settle in for the night. They decided to fly back tomorrow, with the news that they found nothing concerning their mission in the prisons of Russia. But that they found him.

Him.

She's still not quite able to grasp him. He is sitting next to her around the fire, all broad chest and blue eyes, with his heart beating and breaths coming surely.

She also notices the lines of strain and fatigue around his eyes. She notices the faint marks of skin that has been broken apart too many times. She notices the pain that flashes through his eyes from time to time and the almost unrecognizable tremble in his hands.

He is not the same person he was the last time she saw him.

And neither is she.

And she doesn't really know what to do about any of it, except for seeking the small touches he offers her and the comfort of his voice.

* * *

He asks about their mission as well and Thompson tells them about their plans, Leviathan and Howard Stark.

Steve glances over at her at the mention of Howard trading weapons. And she looks back at him with the silent promise to tell him her side of it.

When everyone finally settles for the night and seeks shelter in the warmth of their sleeping bags, Steve scoots in a little closer to her, arms brushing and the fire only a dim reminder in the embers.

"Tell me about you?" he asks, voice only a breath on wind.

"You already know everything about the mission"

"That's why I asked for you"

She breathes in and it's almost painful. But she does want him to know.

"After the war things got calm, but I didn't. My roommate died." She's not sure how to form any words into a logical story, into a timeline he can understand but when she looks at him he seems to understand perfectly and so she just keeps going.

"I work for the SSR, or well I bring them coffee mostly"

He narrows his eyes at that, "what?"

"Yeah, I'm working on that though"

He nods even though he does cast the sleeping men of her team a short, grim glance.

"Howard hired me to be a double agent, it's kind of a long story and I don't want to discuss it with them nearby" she gesticulates to the sleeping team a couple feet away and he nods.

She smiles a kind of painful half-smile that tastes like bourbon and red lipstick and then she says what is resting on her frame and makes her arms heavy and her heart flutter.

"I've been working hard but I haven't been good" she hates how her voice breaks around the last word.

"How about you?" her fingertips seek out the small patch of callused skin around his eyes that tells a battle story of its own.

"I tried to get out of here. When I woke up I didn't know what had happened, how I was still alive or where I was. Before the Russians came in I had hoped that maybe it had been you, who had found me. I wasn't good at piecing myself together in that cell. You've always been much stronger than me"

She shakes her head at that but he stops the movement with the tip of his index-finger.

"Where do we go from here?" she whispers and it's him, who shakes his head now.

"Well I guess I'll be your sidekick in the mission to prove Howard's innocence won't I?"

She laughs that almost infinitesimal laugh that still somehow manages to hold the British accent.

"I'm not really on good terms with Howard at the moment"

"I'm not surprised in even the slightest" they both smile and then stare into the swirling blackness of the night.

She falls asleep an hour later, head rested in the crook of his neck, his arm around her shoulder, holding her close. Facing the night.

* * *

**AN: **Thank you Steph, who was the reason this happened in the first place. I love our headcanon game.


End file.
